


Glitter

by canisspiritus (renardroi)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renardroi/pseuds/canisspiritus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Found this in my word docs. Stops before anything extremely explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitter

Parvis approaches Will in the freezer aisle, something clutched in his hands – a death grip, thanks to Parv’s over-eager nature - one that Strife’s familiar with. He waves several packets of the mysterious, found item in front of his face, says something loudly about arts and crafts and _Will, I could be sparkly like you_ and Strife’s been standing here deliberating about the benefits of buying frozen food over making food for Parvis for _too long_ because he complains about the amount of time it takes to cook, so he snatches the packets from his hand and tosses it in the cart.

Then he grabs a few boxes of whatever the fuck is in front of him, letting them drop into the cart as well. He doesn’t miss the other things Parvis sneaks into the cart, but he elects to let him think he’s being sneaky rather than confront him.

It’s been a long day.

-

Fortunately, at least between the two of them _someone_ is feeling chipper. Parvis is talking animatedly about some new TV show with _dead people_. Zombies? Will asks as he puts the food away. No, no, Parvis insists, dead people, but they’ve come back. It sounds like zombies to Strife, but Parv insists there’s a name for it – on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t remember.

When he finishes unpacking and storing away all the food and soap and what have you that they’ve bought, he tosses Parvis his bag of junk, who has the audacity to look confused.

“Oh!” He remembers as he rummages through the plastic bag, “My arts and crafts! We should make something, Will.”

Strife groans, rubbing his eyes and Parv is visibly disappointed.

“Sorry, Parvis. I just really need like – like a reboot. I’m gonna take a nap, yeah?”

It’s obvious Parvis is trying not to look like he’s upset. Will runs a hand absently through his hair as he passes, pauses to press a tired kiss to the top of his head and enjoy the smell of his greasy hair – seeing as he got up too late to shower this morning - then drags himself into the bedroom and passes out in bed.

-

He wakes up to the distinct warmth of Parvis against him, mouth pressing lightly against his – almost uncharacteristically sweet and slow as Strife’s brain lazily climbs out of the void of unconsciousness. Parv pulls away after an unfortunately short moment, forcing Will to actually wake up, sitting up just a bit and opening his eyes. His gaze goes immediately to the clock on the bedside table, reassuring himself with the harsh red lights letting him know he’s only slept for about three quarters of an hour and not totally fucked up his sleeping schedule.

When his eyes come back around to Parvis, who’s still straddling Strife’s hips – though not in any kind of provocative way, almost childlike – staring at him with a hint of a contained smile and a bright, expectant look in his pretty, dark eyes, Strife immediately has his face in his hands. Parvis is fucking covered in glitter. Which, of course, is now everywhere, he realizes as he gets a good look at the small amounts of glitter that now adorn his hands, stuck into the crease of his life line on his right and his love line on his left. It’s between his fingers and in the corner of his mouth and as he glances down he sees it’s all over the blankets.

Will’s too baffled to say anything, his irritation dampened by the sleepiness he’s still trying to shake off. They’re going to find glitter on everything for months. He sighs as Parv leans down again, looking a little hesitant, but kisses him regardless.

“I woke you up because you always complain when you sleep for more than an hour,” Parvis explains as he starts to pull back again. Strife makes a _hmm_ sound and resigns to the glittery mess, reaching up to reclaim the soothing heat of Parv’s torso against his, hands pressing gently into the curve of his back, tips of his fingers resting in the dip of his spine. There’s already glitter everywhere, he reasons as he hugs him closer, might as well avoid being stressed about it tonight, right?

“See!” Parvis says enthusiastically, propping himself up with his arms against Will’s chest, who wheezes slightly from his bony elbows digging into his upper abdomen, and reflexively pushes him to the side.

“See what?” He asks as they trade their previous positions, so that his knees are on either side of Parv, who’s shirt has ridden up to hint at the expanse of welcoming skin there.

“I’m sparkly like you!” He’s lifting his arms up and tucking his hands behind his head, smirking and confident and his shirt disastrously far above the top of his pants – which are missing the belt, loose and low on his hips.

“I don’t sparkle,” Will chides a little harshly, right hand sliding against Parvis’ hip as the latter laughs in response. Strife thumbs the sharp edge of the bone, the rest of his fingers dipping under the fabric of his pants, closer to the soft skin of Parv’s back. He uses his other hand to hold himself up, palm flat against the bed just over Parvis’ shoulder. “I glow.”

He has to admit though, the thought was – well, endearing.

“Whatever, same difference.” The man underneath him shifts, trying to get comfortable by folding the pillow under his head. The movement slides his hips up briefly, Strife’s fingers then pressing in a little harder. The skin gives slightly under his touch, casting tiny warped shadows, and he uses the movement to nudge his hand higher, fingers moving in tandem with the curves of Parvis’ ribs and the making the material of his shirt bunch against his wrist.

Parv sighs through his nose, watching Strife with half-lidded eyes and a slight smile. Will has to remind himself not to listen to the sound of his own breathing or the subtle thrum of his heartbeat, ignore his hand skipping over skin instead of sliding smoothly. He has to focus on the grace that Parvis seems to embody, his back arching only slightly to meet him, the arc of chin as he tilts his head back invitingly.

Will meets the invitation, removing his hand from Parvis’ skin and kissing against the artery, and down into his collar bone, nose dragging softly behind. It seems to have been something of a trick though as Parv moves his hands to pull on Strife’s belt loops, pulling him off balance, their hips colliding softly. Will kisses his neck a little harder in retaliation, leaving small damps lines up his neck and against his jaw.

He realizes he’s lost track of Parvis’ hands when they suddenly come back into focus, hurriedly trying to unbutton Strife’s now rumpled and creased shirt. His knuckle nudges Will’s chest to encourage him to pull back slightly and give him the space he needs to work the front of his shirt. He can feel the hem sliding up against his lower back and the fabric tight against his shoulders as Parv lazily pulls it down to himself instead of lifting his hands to it.

Strife says _hmm_ quietly again and Parv gives a sharp short laugh. “You always sound like you’re thinking about something serious when you do that.”

Will says _hmmmm_ into Parvis’ mouth when he’s finished with the buttons. His chest is his exposed to relative cold in the air, and it feels like when you’ve just stepped into a swimming pool – and you think about getting back out for a moment, but their hips together are warm and Strife sits up to push the rest of the shirt off and let it drop over the edge of the bed, taking the proverbial dive into the deep end while his _lover_ tries to get at his pants.

“Shit,” Parvis mutters, his voice distinctly breathier as he struggles with the button. The pants are especially tight with Will’s knees apart like this. He looks askance at Will, being wholly unhelpful as Parv gets a better grip, cold fingers slipping between the fabrics and finally twisting the button free. He looks so pleased with himself that Will has half a mind to redo it, but Parv is kicking his shoes free, wiggling underneath him and Strife’s half in love with the glitter reflecting lamp light the same as Parv’s eyes.

“I think I prefer you like this,” Parvis says beneath him, hands gracing Will’s hips.

“Like how?” He asks as he pulls Parv to him, reaching to the soft skin of his back and then pulling his shirt over his head.

“Too tired to overthink this.”

Strife snorts but cups Parvis’ face in his hands affectionately, thumbs hooked under his jawline to tilt his head up. He bows his head to kiss him, on his mouth, ignoring the glitter that scratches his nose where it meets Parv’s. He opens his mouth, or Strife opens his mouth, can’t be sure, and his tongue is in his mouth and he breathes warmly and heavily through his nose. And his hands wander down Will’s back, fingers tapping impatiently.

Strife sighs and lets him be, releases the warmth of his face.

Parvis grins and pushes Will to the side and against the bed, clearly fed up with his antics. He has his pants off of him faster than he can blink up at him in sleepy adoration. Of course he still has the stupid grin on his face as he lifts Will’s knee to his waist and scoots forward between his legs.

“Take your damn pants off,” Strife grumbles quietly, and pushes himself up onto his elbows to meet Parvis in a kiss, not nearly as soft as the last one as Parv scrapes his teeth against his bottom lip, enticing a small breathless moan. Will is rewards with a roll of Parvis’ hips and his warm hands pushing him back into bed, following with kisses against his breastbone.  They’re wet and sloppy and occasionally marked with the impressions of teeth.

“I’m not taking my pants off until you ask nicely.” He emphasizes the statement by trailing his kisses lower and to the right, nipping against the hip bone and then nudging Will’s leg over his shoulder and sliding his hand down the inside of his thigh.

Strife doesn’t reply, small gasps escaping him and the glowing freckles across his chest flickering appreciatively, and he moves his hand to twine his fingers in Parv’s hair. He unconsciously pulls him closer, with his hands and his leg and Parvis likes the sounds Will makes when his mouth is on him too much to say no.


End file.
